


Birds and Bees and Sycamore Trees

by edwarides



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), Teen Titans - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon deaths, Canon-Typical Violence, Crossover, Gen, Multiverse Hijinks, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-10 19:31:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15956015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edwarides/pseuds/edwarides
Summary: Peter gets snapped and wakes up in the DCU. At least he's got Karen with him!





	1. Chapter 1

It really didn’t make any sense. One minute, he was on an alien planet, crumbling to dust in Mr. Stark’s arms, and the next -- well, he was alone in Central Park, of all places. He was still in his Spidey outfit, too, except his hood was down. Yikes! He activated his suit to cover up his face before anyone noticed him.

 

“H-hey, Karen. You there?” Peter glanced around the empty park nervously, worried despite the lack of any prickle in his spidey sense. He could hear the muted cacophony of his city that never slept, drifting in above the trees, under the few stars visible in New York’s night sky.

 

Karen’s voice rang out dispassionately, “I’m here.”

 

“Oh, thank God,” he made a gesture of relief and began to pace. “Where’s Mr. Stark? How did we get back to Earth? What happened to Thanos? Why are we in Central Park --”

 

Karen interrupted his string of questions. “I don’t have enough data to answer your questions, and I am unable to reach the Stark mainframe.”   
  
Peter froze midstep. “What? Why?” 

 

“I don’t have enough data to answer your questions -- “

 

“Right, right, right,” he said and began jogging through the park. “Let’s just go to the tower and see for ourselves then.”

 

“I can call Tony Stark, if you’d like.”

 

“Yeah, good idea!” he aimed for the top of the nearest building at the edge of Central Park and shot out some webbing. The city looked surprisingly normal, no signs of destruction by Thanos’ goons. That wasn’t the only thing that was off though. As he swung past them, Peter noticed the buildings seemed a little different, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what was off.

 

“Hello? Who is calling so late?”

 

“Oh!” Peter startled, and landed on the side of a building, clinging by his hands and feet. It was the voice of some old lady, not Mr. Stark. Oops.

 

“Sorry, wrong number!” he paused. He could still hear the woman on the line. “Uh, I mean, if this is your phone, I mean. Is Mr. Stark there? Because I’m calling for him.”

 

“No Mr. Stark,” said the lady, clearly irritated, “Don’t you know it’s rude to call so late? I am sleeping. Do not call me again!”

 

Peter winced, getting off the call after a few contrite apologies. He resumed swinging to the tower, “Geez, can’t catch a break. What happened, Karen?”   
  
“That was Tony Stark’s phone number. I do not have an explanation as to why someone else answered.”   
  
“This is so  _ weird, _ ” he complained, taking stock of the city again. The buildings still seemed off. “I don’t get it. What --” he cut himself off.  _ Oh no.  _ “Hey, Karen?”

 

“Yes?”   
  
“Where is Stark Tower?”

 

“Stark Tower is located approximately a quarter kilometer South of your current location.”   
  
“Oh, that’s not good,” he said, his voice pitched high and tight. Karen didn’t answer. “I don’t see Stark Tower at all.” When he arrived, he found a completely different building where the tower was supposed to be. “Am I lost?” he asked with a new waver in his voice, “Did I go to the wrong place?”

 

Karen paused, considering, then answered, “Your coordinates indicate that you are in the location of Stark Tower.”   
  
The main floor of the building  _ that wasn’t at all Stark Tower  _ was a strip of business, including a pizza parlor that was still open, a few customers dining inside. The rest of the floors seemed to be apartment units. Peter perched on a streetlight and bit his lip. “Karen, call Ned, please?”

 

“Calling.”

 

_ “We’re sorry, the number you have reached is disconnected or unavailable at this time.” _

 

He swallowed against the uneasy feeling rising in his chest. “Call my Aunt May?”

 

He watched strangers walking down the sidewalk, hushing each other from laughing too loudly in the dead of night, as the phone rang and rang, and then, “Hello, you’ve reached the Offices of John Davis, attorney at law. We’re not in right now, so --” Peter ended the call and leaped off the streetlight, headed East for Queens, for home.

 

Now, he could see it. The buildings felt off because they  _ were _ off. They were different buildings entirely. It was New York City, but not  _ his _ New York City. He was home before he knew it, single-minded in his panic. But it wasn’t home at all. He stood on the fire escape and stared in disbelief through the darkened windows. The furniture was different. There was a family sleeping inside, but not his family, not his Aunt May. 

He fell back against the railing noisily.“Okay, cool. I’m not panicking. I’m not panicking. Everything is weird, and I don’t know where anyone is, and none of this makes any sense, but I’m not dead. I’m not dead. Right? Oh God, what if I’m dead?”

 

“You’re not dead. Your vitals are in good order, but your heart rate is elevated.”

 

Peter slid down until he was sitting and wrapped his arms around his knees. “This doesn’t make any sense. I was dead, Karen. I could feel it. I could sense it. And everyone else, they -- they turned to ash. And Mr. Stark, Mr. Stark, he --” Peter could remember his face, the way it had been creased with desperation, the expression seared in his memory. Was Mr. Stark still on the alien planet? Was Thanos? Had Thanos won? Was this his new reality?

 

Peter tilted his head up and looked at the night sky. It never got too dark with all the light pollution in the city, especially with the moon so bright. There weren’t many stars, but the few that could be seen twinkled down at him. Same stars. Same galaxy. Same city, for the most part. Karen spoke up, “I’m sorry. I don’t know how we got here or why it’s different.”

 

Peter didn’t fall asleep, but he stayed there on the fire escape of what should have been his home until the sun peaked over the horizon.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Karen have a productive morning.

“What about a wrestling gig?” Peter asked, scrolling through his phone, while he reclined on a rooftop. Given that his available outfits were either Spider Man or naked man, he had really limited options when it came to quick money.

“I’m not finding any listings for walk-ins.” Karen replied.

Peter closed his eyes and let his head tilt back, feeling the sun through his mask. Karen was intelligent enough to access the internet, which was apparently different, but not too different. Peter’s Stark phone, on the other hand, apparently had no network it could reach. He was up the creek without a paddle -- no money, no spare clothes, no place to stay, and worst of all, no identity. Peter had decided that since they couldn’t find anybody either of them knew online, except for some celebrities, strangely (not that he knew any celebrities personally), the next priority ought to be basic survival.

“But maybe if you ask nicely…” Karen proposed helpfully.

“Naw, that’s alright,” he murmured, “‘I’m not really feeling it anyway.” As if he needed to dredge up those memories. He was busy enough trying not to panic at the thought of being in a world without Aunt May and Ned and everybody, let alone having to be reminded of Uncle Ben.

“Okay, forget it. Let’s go shopping.”

“How can you go shopping without any money?” Karen inquired politely.

“Well, it’s like shopping, but more, you know, free,” he said, and with that, he dove off the building.

Later, behind the mall and out of sight, Peter whined good-naturedly, “Karen, you are so lucky you don’t have to smell this!”

Karen quipped back, “It’s one of the many perks of being artificial.”

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Peter answered miserably, flipping open another dumpster and combing through the refuse, trying to find some clothing unspoiled by mall food. “You know, I thought fish smelled gross normally,” he whined, “but this is a whole other level. I may never eat sushi again.” He uncovered some indescribable thing covered in a menacing black mold and nearly gagged. “Oh, gross! Augh, abort, abort, abort!” he cried, slamming the lid down and backing quickly away. “I’m pretty sure those are evil alien spores, Karen.”

“No more alien than the rest of this world,” she responded dispassionately.

Peter frowned, but quickly rallied. “No,” he responded, “those are evil alien, like Little Shop of Horrors evil. You know what I mean?”

“I do not know what you mean.”

“It’s an evil plant from space that gets all huge and sings and eats people and wants to take over the world,” he said, gesturing as to the size of the plant and curling his fingers like teeth.

“I have no previous knowledge of this threat.”

“No, Karen, it’s -- it’s a joke,” he sighed, “Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll add it to my list of pop-culture references.”

Luckily, the third dumpster was the charm, and Peter found what looked like the jackpot, until he realized it was mostly sundresses. Nevertheless, some digging and he fished out a couple pairs of khaki cargo pants and three lame shirts all with the same weird “S” logo. He also found an oversized sweater that was only a little bit hideous. He couldn’t find any socks, but he did find some crocs that he guessed would do. He put his new clothing on over his suit and he put the spare shirts and pants in a plastic bag that he’d found floating around.

“Okay, so the plan was to get some food next, but I might never eat again,” Peter complained. The air was swimming with the stench of decaying fish. “So remind me to go diving for non-gross food at a non-gross dumpster later.”

“When would you like the reminder?”

“I don’t know. Whenever.”

There was a slight pause before Karen replied, “Reminder set.”

“Thanks. Now, let’s get out of here. I’m dying.”

Peter ended up on the steps of the library with a stack of free newspapers sitting beside him. He was in the same year but in a world that was clearly different. “It doesn’t make sense,” he whispered into his phone.

Karen answered through the phone’s speaker since his hood was hidden and Peter was keeping Spider Man on the DL, as per usual. “I am unable to ascertain a date of divergence, but a parallel world seems the most likely explanation.”

“That, or it’s a simulation or hallucination or something,” he flipped through another newspaper, finding mostly ads and gossip. “New orphanage. That’s nice.”

“I cannot hallucinate, but I suppose a sufficiently sophisticated simulation could fool my sensors.”

Peter folded the newspaper he was holding and set it aside, “No, you’re right. It wouldn’t make sense for Thanos to remake the entire universe but just a little bit different when his goal was to kill half of everyone. And I’m pretty sure that would make the news. I mean, It wouldn’t make sense for him to make a simulation either, but I guess I could see him banishing half of everyone to a parallel universe? I don’t know why he would though, when he could have just killed us all.”

Karen processed for a moment before replying, “it’s possible that it was an accident. Matter doesn’t just disappear, even with the advanced technology of the Infinity Stones.”

“I don’t know, Karen,” Peter kicked his feet out and winced at the sight of his crocs, “They’re magic aren’t they? They don’t have to make sense.”

“I don’t know much about magic, but I do believe it still follows certain laws.”

He sighed, “I wish we could ask Doctor Strange.”

“Perhaps we could find a magician of similar knowledge and acumen?”

“Somehow, I think looking up ‘magician’ isn’t going to get us helpful results, but I guess it can’t hurt.” He stood up and stretched, then dusted himself off and turned to walk into the library, musing, “Who knows, maybe we’ll even find this universe has its own team of famous heros?”

And then he tripped over his own feet at the idea. “Oh.”

Karen was way ahead of him. “Checking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Too bad Tony didn't program in the pop-culture references from the start. Karen's gotta learn them the hard way.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter goes in search of a hero.

Peter looked surreptitiously around him before hopping the turnstile. In all the hustle and bustle of the metro station, Peter hoped it wasn’t too noticeable. Besides, he was quick. 

Not only had Karen found a holy cow amount of heroes in this world, but she also had discovered that the most famous ones lived in weird alternate cities that didn’t even exist in his world. Karen had tried to find heroes in New York, and there were rumors about titans and maybe some guy named Nightwing, but details were lacking and speculation was wild. Peter figured it would be better to search for a hero that was easier to find and more obviously, you know, a good guy. 

The metro map was so weird. He had already checked out a map of the area on one of the library computers, but it was crazy how many different cities there were and how much the geography differed. Given how divergent this world was, he found it incredible how much was still the same. 

So, New York to Gotham, in Jersey, then Gotham to Metropolis, in Delaware. And then, he figured he could just hang out until he saw a man flying around with that same “S” logo he had on his own dumpster shirt. Peter took that weird little coincidence as a sign that he was on the right track. Karen had told him that it was just a sign of Superman’s popularity. It was still the right track though.

The metro station was otherwise a typical New York station. Dark, dirty, full of busy people. As Peter waited for his train in the underground, he swayed to the smooth, full tone of some person’s lone saxophone drifting over the din of voices echoing off the round walls. He closed his eyes and for a moment, he imagined he was back home. For all that it was so different, and no one he knew existed, this place felt like his city. He could feel it to his bones. It wasn’t until this moment, waiting for a train to whisk him away for the unknown again, that he realized how much he missed this, this close crush of people, the music, this city that never slept. He thought he’d never experience it again, that he’d die there on that planet, so far away.

Who knew what his odds were. Who knew why he had been sent here. He had another chance. That was worth giving up this one small comfort of being in his city, wasn’t it? It was his home, but it was empty. As the train pulled up and the doors opened, Peter was surprised at the feeling that swelled up in him. “Goodbye again, New York,” he whispered, then stepped through the entrance.

He chose to stand, watching the station move away before the windows were cast over with the dark of the tunnel.

It was a quiet trip. The other passengers kept to themselves, some sleeping, some reading, many with headphones, many on their phones. Peter felt subdued himself. He observed these alternate New Yorkers and let his mind wander. The train at one point emerged from the tunnel, crossing parts of the city above ground, and he watched it all go by. The tracks were close to the industrial ports of the city, and he could see great lots of cars and shipping containers, lots of warehouses. He wondered how many villains holed up in warehouses like those in this alternate city and if those mysterious vigilantes kept it all in check. 

Then, they were out over the water on an impressive bridge. He could smell the salt in the air and see the ocean stretching out to the horizon, bright with the watercolor cast of the sky blown purple, pink, and orange. The setting sun glinted off the waves as silhouettes of shipping barges and passenger boats traversed the ports. “I wish you could see this, Karen,” he said quietly, knowing she would hear him, “it’s so beautiful.” Maybe he could come back here, dressed as Spider-Man, so she could see it through the mask. 

Before he knew it, he was underground again, and they were arriving at the main Gotham station. The train came to a stop, and Peter stepped off into this new city. “Let’s go to Metropolis tomorrow,” he told Karen. “I’m suddenly really tired.” And he really was. He felt like he’d hit a wall of exhaustion. He realized that he hadn’t slept for days, what with fighting Thanos’ goons, sneaking onto a spaceship, crashing the spaceship, fighting the Guardians, fighting Thanos himself, watching Tony nearly die, dying himself, all of that, and he was still awake somehow.

Maybe he could find himself a rooftop to pass out on? As he drifted along with the sea of other people making their way up to the surface, he heard some people laughing in the distance. Like the saxophone in the other station, the laughter reverberated through the heavy, rounded walls of the underground. “Wonder what’s so funny,” he mused.

A little girl with beads at the end of each braid ran up to him. “Hey, look, we have the same shirt!” And she pointed at the “S” on her top.

Her mother wasn’t far behind, and she took hold of her daughter’s hand. “Yvonne, what did I tell you about running away from me outside?”

Yvonne tugged at her shirt, and responded, “bread and butter.”

“That’s right,” her mother said, “we stick together like bread and butter.” She turned to Peter, acknowledging him for the first time. “Sorry, she’s just really obsessed with Superman.”

Yvonne perked up immediately, “he saved us once from a falling building!”

“A whole building?” Peter asked, “Not just like a roof or something?”

“A ten-story building,” her mother responded, gripping her daughter’s hand tighter and looking down at her with fondness ,“You ain’t seen nothing til you’ve been to Metropolis. That man is an angel.”

“I’m actually going to visit for the first time,” Peter couldn’t help imparting.

“Well, that’s --” she started, but then started chuckling, “that’s great. You should visit -- visit --” and then she was lost to her laughter, and so was her daughter. 

He couldn’t help catching their laughter. Peter felt a tickle in the back of his head, maybe his spidey sense, but maybe just an itch. And it was hilarious for some reason. The crowd around them had started to laugh as well. His phone rang, and he answered it, shaking a little and giggling, “H-hey, Karen. What --”

“Peter, put on your mask. There is an unknown chemical in the air that is affecting you.”

“Ho-h’okay, yeah,” he said, heartbeat quickening as he tried to subdue his laughter and found he couldn’t. The crowd was becoming obnoxiously loud in their laughter, some falling over in their mirth. Yvonne’s mother had knelt down and was holding her daughter in her arms as the two laughed and laughed together. He pulled out his mask and slipped it on, still feeling bubbly and slow, but nothing as outrageous as what was happening to other people in the station. After a few breaths of clean air, his spidey sense came back with a vengeance, and he staggered at the spike in his head.

His breath caught in his throat, “Oh my god.”

People were laughing so hard, they were crying. They looked like they were in pain. Some were paralyzed in a terrifying rictus, lips spread in horrifying toothy smiles, with teary bulging eyes. It was the air. They were trapped in here with no circulation. “Get out of here!” he shouted at the mass of people, but they were frozen, collapsing. So many people, all trapped. He could never save all these people.

But that wouldn’t stop him from trying. 

“Keep ahold of your daughter, ma’am!” he shouted, before picking them up with one arm and slinging himself to the upper levels toward the exit. The door was locked and a mountain of corpses with painful smiles were haphazardly stacked around it, as if they had been scrambling to get out. Peter had to move the bodies and kick down the door to finally escape, all while mother and daughter were shrieking with paroxysms of glee in his tight and bruising grip. No sooner had he stepped out into the city and caught a glimpse of men fighting in the glare of bright street lamps than an explosion went off behind him. His spidey sense warned him just in time, and he swung off a street lamp and to the top of a nearby building.

He laid down his charges, chanting, “Please be alright, please be alright,” but still, they laughed and laughed. He shook his head and backed away, steeling himself. Now was not the time to fall apart. People needed him.

And then he heard a voice projected loud into the night air, “Who’s the new little bird? And how did you fly out of my cage?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to write longer chapters. It's getting easier now that we're more into the story, I think.

**Author's Note:**

> Stay tuned, folks. :)


End file.
